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their mixed heritage that made them so
frightening. It was their training. On Oudtstone, standard Dactari training had
been alloyed with the traditional tribal rituals of the natives. Graadt had
needed to spend a full solar cycle on Oudtstone’s second moon, Chokbaan. He,
like all his kind, had been dropped on the surface with nothing but the
clothing on his back. Each year, a shuttle would pick up a limited number of
successful candidates.
    If you couldn’t fight your way into one of the pick-up pods,
you never saw home again.
    Long months of survival in the deep walds had given him the
raw edge that instilled such fear in this big Eesari, and Graadt simply
accepted it as the normal way of things. Prey feared the predator.
    He picked up a small wooden bracelet. “How does a dung-heels
like you get his front paws on spicewood?” He’d been noticing the steady
increase of spicewood objects in Chaco and it was constantly nagging at the
back of his mind. If you weren’t attuned to your environment, it wouldn’t be
long before you became the prey, and this sudden profusion of luxury items
represented a change he couldn’t put his finger on.
    The Eesari’s mouth moved but no sound came out.
    The corners of Graadt’s mouth twitched up – half grin, half
snarl. “Boys, help him find his slate.”
    Kaans and Nid dragged him over to the grimy railing and bent
him over it. A slag carrier passed beneath in the fog, greyish white eddies in
its silent wake. They reached down and grabbed their victim’s feet, lifting
them up so he slid over the rail and hung upside down over the nine-story drop.
    The Eesari found his voice. The other patrons guiltily
ignored the screams and concentrated on their meals.
    Graadt got out of the chair and leaned over the slick
graphene rail, shoving a mouthful of half-eaten fish into his mouth. “You don’t
expect me to eat with you hanging there shrieking, do you?”
    “You were asked a question,” Kaans shouted down at him.
“Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”
    “It’s cheap,” their victim screamed. “Some shops on
twenty-three, near the pinch, they carry stuff like this.”
    “How much was it?” Graadt brought the bracelet to his nose.
His eyebrows shot up.
    “Thirty-two hundred credits,” the Eesari whined. “You can
have it…”
    Graadt held out the bracelet for Kaans to sniff. “Thirty-two
hundred is cheap for old wood, but this is fresh from the trunk. No way you
paid so little for something this new.”
    “It’s true, I didn’t believe the stories myself until I
actually went there.” There was a series of rapid, shallow breaths.
    Graadt nodded at his cronies and waited till they pulled him
up. “Near the pinch?” he asked.
    A relieved nod.
    “What was the name of the place?”
    A fearful glance darted at the railing. “Gods, I don’t
remember. I just walked into some stores until I found that bracelet.”
    Graadt wanted more information but he’d caught a scent and
he wanted to start the hunt. He grabbed the Eesari’s wrist, holding it up for
Nid to scan with an arm-mounted unit.
    “Nish Ainashu,” Nid grunted.
    Graadt stepped closer, his face inches from Nish. He cupped
the back of the Eesari’s head with his right hand. “If I decide later that I’m
angry with you, Nish, I’ll come looking for you. You don’t want that to happen,
do you?” The question sounded more like a statement of fact.
    A terrified shake of the head.
    “Good.” Graadt patted the back of Nish’s head roughly. “You
enjoy your meal.”
    He pushed Nish back into his seat. Graadt had suddenly
forgotten he was hungry. He hadn’t given much thought to the profusion of
spicewood because he’d come here to hunt a Human agent, not to trade in luxury
goods. Still, something seemed out of place and he couldn’t afford to ignore it
any longer.
    He led his two comrades out of the diner and over to a
loading portal.
    There were two lines waiting at the portal.  One was